


Leave the light on

by VesperNexus



Category: The Spy Who Came in from the Cold - John Le Carré
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperNexus/pseuds/VesperNexus
Summary: Jens Fiedler is afraid of the dark.





	Leave the light on

**Author's Note:**

> idk  
> just sort of happened really  
> over a mug of earl grey

**One**

The first time he notices, Leamas thinks nothing of it.

Candlelight licks up Fiedler’s white cheeks, orange swirls colouring a sharp nose and forehead. His head is pillowed on two arms, the black ruffle of his hair a breath away from the timber tabletop.

It’s the first time Leamas has seen the younger man asleep. His lips are only just parted, and his soft breathing, melodious, makes the fabric of his sleeve dance so slightly.

A bundle of papers is creased beneath the fold of his arms, inky script stubbornly incomplete. Leamas squints, and once his vision clears well enough, sees the same black smudged on the inside of Fiedler’s thin, curled fingers. It cannot be the first time Fiedler has fallen asleep at his desk.

Standing at the doorframe, Leamas takes a second to breathe, slowing his breath to match Fiedler’s. He’s tempted to cup the flame and blow out the candle, and only barely resists.

Leamas softly closes the door, retreating.

Later, he closes his eyes to the picture of Fiedler soundly asleep in the candlelight.

**Two**

Even though Fielder sits cross-legged on the sofa, he barely takes up any space.

The length from one knee to another is barely enough to keep the heavy book from tumbling onto the floorboards. Thin spectacles are perched on the tip of his nose, slipping, slipping, staying just still enough for Fiedler to peer through the lenses with his dark, inquisitive eyes.

Leamas sits beside him, and the sofa shifts gently with his weight. He sits close, not too close. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off the younger man’s skin, beneath his rolled pyjama sleeves.

Leamas hovers the glass inches above the curled yellow pages, patiently, until a smooth palm pries it from his fingers. Fiedler nods in thanks, and takes a slow, inattentive sip of Steinhager.

“It’s getting late,” Leamas says unnecessarily, needing to fill the silence between sips.

“Mmm….”

And the silence returns. Leamas satisfies himself with the gin and watching Fiedler’s hand get steadily heavier and heavier against the pages, and the flick from one chapter to the next become steadily slower and slower.

Their glasses are empty. Shoulders and knees pressed together. The curly ends of Fiedler’s hair tickle Leamas’ stubble. They are both too comfortable to move. Another night on the couch, then. The beds were hardly any more comfortable, anyway.

And the two beds are separated by two dozen walls and corridors and doors, and in this wretched cold place Leamas craves some of Fiedler’s warmth.

Fiedler’s big book has fallen shut.

_The Geneva Conventions of Nineteen Fourteen, a study in sixty-four articles and all additional Protocols._

Oh _Jens._

Leamas pries the volume from his lap. His spectacles are about to fall, but Leamas won’t put his fingers near Fiedler’s face, lest he do something they both regret.

Instead, he reaches over the younger man to the side table, fingers reaching for the string dangling from the lamp. A little darkness to beckon them to the sleep.

A hand twists around his wrist with urgency.

Leamas jumps, a sudden rush of breath filling his lungs. Fielder is awake. He quickly pushes his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

“I am still reading,” a weak smile. It’s too quick, practiced, pulling along his cheeks in an arc too perfect and artificial. “Leave it on.”

Leamas pulls back. Fiedler releases his wrist after a moment.

It sinks in his stomach, slowly and slowly until it settles. A little stone of doubt. Leamas retreats to his side of the couch, too wary of how close they were.

“Right. Sorry.”

Fiedler bends, pulling the big book back onto his lap, still awash in amber light.

It is two in the morning.

Leamas says nothing else, only drawing his knees to his chest and pillowing his head on the inside of his arm.

He falls into an uneasy sleep in the light, the sound of barely moving pages and the little stone sinking deeper and deeper.

**Three**

“Are you afraid?”

The words crawl underneath his shirt and into his skin, settling between the creaking bones of his ribcage. Leamas doesn’t know how to answer.

“Aren’t you?” He asks instead, pressing his lips to the crown of Fiedler’s head. Leamas feels the younger man smile into his neck.

“What do we have to fear, Alec?”

His arm is going numb, trapped between Fiedler’s body and the bed. There’s a wild tingling which crawls from the tips of his fingers to his elbow. It’s such an exceptionally uncomfortable feeling, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

The light bulb is too bright, dangling hollowly, soundlessly above them. Leamas looks away and keeps his eyes on the man in his arms.

“There’s nowhere left for Mundt to run.” Fiedler sounds so, so sure. “There is no hiding crevice beyond my reach. Not anymore. Not when I have you by my side.”

Leamas feels the beats of his heart slow. The strong _thump, thump, thump_ is excitement, it is certainty and pride. Fiedler is right. Together, truly, properly allied, there is no hole left for Mundt to bury his head.

“Sleep, Alec. They will come for us soon. The guards will disappear and Mundt will make his move, slithering from between the beeches.” Fiedler’s tone unafraid.

Leamas pushes their heads together on the pillow.

“Can’t reach the light switch like this,” he murmurs into Fiedler’s forehead.

His eyes close, not even the piercing light disturbing his pleasant darkness.

“Forget about the light, Alec.”

He does.

**Four**

They have not said one word to each other since the trial.

A lethargy drapes itself over Leamas’ shoulders. The words roll around in his mouth, over his tongue, drenched in thick slippery oil. He cannot force them out, and they slide tastelessly back down the passage of his throat to settle uncomfortably in his stomach. Leamas is bloated, full of unsaid words.

“Jens.”

The dented DKW overlooks a tall, narrow drop. Stopping at the edge of the cliff, Fiedler pulls the car into park and with a savage flick of his wrist switches off the engine.

He keeps the headlights on, and the yellow beams draw a crude, wavy line against the black starless sky.

“I did not think it would feel like this.”

There are tears in his voice, but his eyes are dry. He is like Leamas, full of unsaid words fighting to spill from his mouth.

“We won.”

“Is this winning?”

“Yes.”

Leamas leans back against the uncomfortable seat. The longer they drive nowhere, the more incessantly the leather sticks to his trousers and his skin.

“I am not used to winning.”

“Neither am I.”

Fiedler’s fingers press against the back of his wrist. The headlights blur, and suddenly, his eyelashes are wet, and his mouth is full of salt.

He closes his eyes and falls asleep to Fiedler’s shaky breaths.

**Five**

Fiedler is sprawled across the bed. Each of his four limbs reach valiantly for a separate bed post, and Leamas’ palm cannot muffle his scoff.

“Leave some space for me!”

He squishes the younger man into the bed, pushing his body into the mattress and suffocating his groan of complaint.

“Take the _sofa._ ”

“Piss off.”

It’s a battle, but in the end Leamas is victorious. Fiedler’s sprawling is contained to less than three-quarters of the bed, leaving him just enough room to curl into a ball around his pillow.

Leamas kicks him. Fiedler does not look regretful.

“G’night.”

“Good night.”

Leamas keeps his eyes open long enough to see Fiedler reach over to the bedside table, fingers twisted around the lamp-switch.

“Leave it on.”

Fiedler blinks. He says nothing, but he smiles.

They fall asleep.

The light stays on.


End file.
